


This Much is True

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, M/M, POV Outsider, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: "You know people don't get us, right?" Eggsy says.Harry knows this is true, but he doesn't care. He has a good life now, one he wouldn't trade for anything; as far as he's concerned, the sacrifices he's made to get here are all worth it.





	This Much is True

**Author's Note:**

  * For [concernedlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedlily/gifts).



> I combined a few of your prompts and likes here, and had a lot of fun with them. I hope this is what you were looking for!

He calls himself Johnny, though that's not really his name. But it's good for anonymity and it translates well into a bunch of different languages, and that's even better. He's come a long way from sitting in his dorm room alone at night, hacking into Department of Defense satellites and nearly jizzing himself when he actually got in. Selling state secrets is a rarefied business, and he likes to think he's done really well for himself.

His phone chimes, a text from one of his guys alerting him that his new buyers have just been spotted making the turn onto Prince Street. That's good. That means they're on time. Johnny is a busy man, with places to go and other secrets to sell.

The new buyers arrive right on schedule. Darnell, the head of his security team, gives Johnny a nod, indicating they've passed muster. One of them is younger, more stocky. The other is tall and old. They're both carrying umbrellas and dressed in glasses and sharp pinstriped suits, and for a moment Johnny bristles, thinking he's being mocked. Then a split second later he changes his mind. He likes it. Their appearance adds an air of authenticity to these proceedings. He might just make it a rule for all his future meetings: come appropriately attired or don't bother coming.

"Who's your friend?" he asks. He's only dealt with the young kid carrying a briefcase. Eggsy is his name, of all things. Grew up in London, already has a long rap sheet to his name, mostly drugs and theft, but he says he's been looking to expand things and start making some serious money. Johnny doesn't know who he plans to sell this top-secret information to and he doesn't care, so long as it doesn't infringe on his own network. What matters is that Eggsy's hinted a few times now that if this deal works out, he'll be back for more. And that's just what Johnny wants to hear.

Things have been kinda rough for him since V-Day. Most of his buyers and contacts died that day, or shortly afterward. Since then he's worked hard to rebuild his networks and reached out to new buyers, trying to expand his business. The way he sees it, a lot of sellers of classified information died on V-Day too. That means there's a vacuum waiting to be filled. Why shouldn't it be him?

So he'll start with this sale, and hope for more. Today is a good start. After this deal he'll be able to buy that Bugatti he's been wanting for some time.

Eggsy gestures to the tall man as they sit down opposite Johnny's desk, resting their umbrellas against their chairs. "This is Harry."

Yeah, he looks like a Harry, Johnny decides. Right down to the dark lens of his glasses covering one eye. "You have my money?" He has a good feeling about this kid, but he's not too worried if he's proven wrong. He's got four of his best guys standing around just waiting to do what they do best. With guns.

"You have the data?" Eggsy asks.

Johnny taps the data stick resting on his desk. "As promised."

Eggsy grins and lifts the briefcase. "Awesome."

There is a moment of silence during the exchange, when Johnny opens the case and goes through the cash, and Harry plugs the data stick into a tablet he had concealed inside his suit jacket. That kind of bothers Johnny a bit, but not too much; he knows both men got a thorough pat down before being allowed in here.

He snaps the briefcase closed. He can already smell the leather interior of that Bugatti. "I think we're good."

"Yeah," Eggsy says. He turns to Harry, and Johnny has the weirdest sensation then, that these guys are communicating a ton of information with just that one word, that single look. Like they've done this before. A lot. "What do you think?"

"I think you're right," Harry says as he stows the tablet back inside his jacket. In unison they stand up and reach for their umbrellas.

And that's when everything goes to shit.

Johnny screams and dives under his desk, forgetting all about the briefcase and its money. From this viewpoint he's able to watch as one of his security guys, Mark, the one with two cats, draws his gun, only to be driven backward. Mark goes down to one knee, manages to get off a few shots, and then falls, thankfully face forward.

Johnny hunches himself into a little ball and tries not to scream again. The sound of gunfire is insanely loud in his small office. All he can think is _what the fuck what the fuck they hadn't even been armed what are they shooting with??_

He hears the last body hit the floor, and then there is nothing but ringing silence. Then Eggsy says, "You better get up, mate."

Shaking, about to piss himself, Johnny stands up. Hands held up high.

His guys are all dead. There are bullets embedded in the pinstriped suits Eggsy and Harry are wearing. Harry still holds his umbrella like it's a fucking rifle or something.

They're cops. Or bobbies. Or whatever they fuck they're called in England. They must be. 

"You're going to want to come with us," Eggsy says.

Johnny nods, quick and eager. Yeah. Sure. Whatever. _Just don't fucking kill me!_

He starts to walk around the desk, then cringes back as Eggsy walks toward him. But Eggsy isn't interested in him; he just takes the briefcase. "Can't forget this," he says. He winks at Harry.

Harry seems unamused as he furls his umbrella. "May I remind you that we have a schedule to keep?" He pronounces it the British way, like shed-yule.

"Says the bloke who's always late to everything," Eggsy says with a grin. And yeah, they're definitely cops. Partners who have worked together so long they know each other's little quirks and all that shit. In another situation it could almost be kind of cute.

Except they're the weirdest cops Johnny's ever known, because neither one of them makes any move to arrest him. There's just this awkward pause while Johnny stands there with his hands still held high, and nobody moves. Then Eggsy says, "Yeah, all right, I get ya," even though no one has said a word.

Eggsy holds out an arm, leading the way. "After you," he says.

Johnny goes quickly enough. Harry falls into step behind him, making sure he has no thoughts about bolting for it. Not that he has anywhere to go.

"You ever been to Kentucky?" Eggsy asks. He says it kind of funny. Or maybe it's his accent. Or the fact that Johnny is scared shitless. It's hard to say.

"No," Johnny says honestly.

"I'm not really sure this is the best idea," Harry says. He sounds disapproving, but Johnny isn't exactly about to turn around and look. Not with the guy right at his back.

"Me either," Eggsy says with a little shrug. "But it's what they want, so…" 

"Well, I am pleased to say at least we have better standards for our employees," Harry says, all arrogant like a snob.

Eggsy laughs, sounding genuinely amused. "Yeah, right."

He expects Harry to have a comeback to this, but he doesn't. Johnny hunches up his shoulders and hopes he's not about to get shot in the back.

He has absolutely no idea why they're taking him to Kentucky, but he'll do whatever they say. He wants to get away from these two men and their umbrellas and pinstriped suits.

Far, far away.

His office is on the sixth floor of a building that is half-empty even on a weekday. It's in a bad area of town, and the rents are ridiculously high. He's always liked that, been glad for the lack of traffic, but today he curses it. It's a Saturday morning and there is no one else here.

Except for the rest of his guys. Only two of them, but they could be enough. Maybe. Hopefully.

They take the elevator down, Johnny standing square in the middle of the car, Eggsy and Harry standing behind him and slightly to either side. Bracketing him, just in case. Like he's going to try anything. Especially in a small space like this.

The elevator stops on the fourth floor. Ken, the guy who texted him to say his buyers were approaching, steps on. He nods at them all, reaches for the buttons, then lets his hand fall back as he realizes the first floor is already their destination.

Johnny barely breathes. He saw the way Ken's eyes barely glanced over him, like he was a stranger, just some guy getting in some overtime on a Saturday.

A small flare of hope rises in his chest. Maybe there really is a chance of getting out of this.

The elevator stops again on the second floor. Darnell gets on here, and with him there is no pretending he doesn't know who they are. He's the one who frisked Eggsy and Harry; they know perfectly well that he works for Johnny.

He doesn't know who knocks him aside first. He's shoved into the back wall of the elevator from both sides.

There's no room in here for a fight. But that stops none of them.

From Johnny's viewpoint it's almost like a ballet, graceful but vicious. Eggsy takes on Darnell without hesitating, shoving the briefcase in his face almost before Darnell can even get fully in the elevator. Darnell lurches backward to avoid being smashed in the face and thumps up against the closing doors.

On his right, Harry engages Ken with a sharp kick to his knee. Ken drops like a stone, but he lashes out as he goes down, and suddenly the two of them are grappling.

It's too much for Johnny. He slides down the wall into a crouch, trying to make himself small and not get hurt.

The kicks and punches keep coming. In this little space, it's brutal. And it couldn't be plainer that his two buyers, these English cops -- or whatever they are -- are in complete control.

Ken and Darnell put up a good fight, but there is no contest. At one point they find themselves facing a different foe, Eggsy and Harry shifting easily to take on the newcomer. Eggsy even flashes a grin at Harry, which makes Johnny blink in shock. Is it possible these two think this kind of thing is _fun_?

It ends as swiftly as it began, with Eggsy clubbing Ken on the back of his neck hard enough to make him slump unconscious. Harry finishes Darnell off with a vicious uppercut that makes the man's eyes roll up as he collapses.

And then it's over. Johnny stays frozen in his crouch as Eggsy and Harry look at each other. He watches them assess each other for damage, noting the bloody nose, the cut lip. Then they nod, and to his disbelief, actually smile at each other.

He is so going to die.

Eggsy turns to him. "Anything else we need to know about?"

Johnny shakes his head rapidly. "Please don't kill me!"

"It's not up to us," Eggsy says. "But…" He looks up at Harry.

Harry raises his left arm. Johnny cringes back against the elevator wall and waits for the sound of the gunshot, even though he can't see a gun -- he's that convinced this is what's happening.

Instead Harry reaches for his watch, of all things.

The dart catches Johnny in the neck. He flinches sharply, more out of shock than any real pain. He starts to reach for it, amazed and stunned -- and horrified to see Eggsy grinning at Harry. "Nice shot."

"Thank you," Harry says, obviously pleased with himself.

Johnny sags downward. His last thought is that he's managed to get himself captured by two very strange men.

And then he's out.

****

"You know people don't get us, right?" Eggsy says.

"How do you mean?" Harry asks. They got back home late last night; he slept poorly, unable to let go of the post-mission tension. For hours he lay in bed listening to Eggsy's deep breathing, running through all the mental exercises he knew to get to sleep, only for them all to fail.

One of the luxuries of being Arthur, though, is getting to set his own debrief time. None of this crack-of-dawn bullshit like Chester King used to demand. No, Harry is going to have a nice breakfast and take his time getting to the shop this morning. He'll get there when he gets there. Then he and Eggsy will meet with Merlin, call up Champ to find out how things are going in Kentucky with their newest "employee," and that will be one more mission officially closed.

There won't be a _Sun_ headline for the wall, though. That was one thing he and Eggsy agreed on when they moved into their new house. No more looking back on the past. They've both lost too much: time, relationships, literally everything they owned. Now is for _now_.

"I mean," Eggsy says. He butters another slice of toast. "Did you see the look on that guy's face? I keep thinking about it." He shakes his head.

"Well, he was rather frightened," Harry points out.

"Yeah, but still…" Eggsy trails off.

The thing is, Harry does know what he means. He was very aware of what their target had been up to during the operation. He saw the bewilderment on Johnny's face, the way the man obviously couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Chester King would chide them both for lacking decorum in the field. Merlin has dropped a couple of hints before, though admittedly most of his concern seems to stem from the very idea that Harry is out there in the first place. Even Roxy Morton has made a comment to Eggsy, although she did so in jest.

But the plain truth is that Harry doesn't care. He has a good life now, one he wouldn't trade for anything; as far as he's concerned, the sacrifices he's made to get here are all worth it.

"I admit," he says, "that in the interest of maintaining our reputation, we ought to refrain from unseemly displays of emotion while on a mission. It does rather compromise our ability to successfully intimidate a target."

Eggsy grins at him. "You know how I like it when you talk that way." He spreads jam on his toast in lavish amounts.

"Then perhaps it will interest you to know," Harry says, "that tonight I have every intention of ministering to you until you are very vocal in your insistence that I cease and desist."

Eggsy stares at him, toast completely forgotten. "Fuck me," he says in open admiration.

Harry just gives him his most innocent look.

"Why wait until tonight?" Eggsy says with a wide smile. He leans back in his chair. "I'm available now."

Yes indeed, Harry thinks as he sets his napkin aside and stands up. One of the perks of being Arthur. 

He'll get there when he gets there.

****

Two hours later they finally step outside and start the walk to the shop.

Eggsy is in bright spirits, even twirling his Rainmaker on occasion. He matches his step to Harry's longer stride effortlessly, walking on his right, the way he has done since their reunion in Kentucky. Eggsy does it without thinking about it anymore, is Harry's guess, but he is always very aware of it, while being simultaneously grateful to Eggsy for this simple but significant consideration.

"So while we was going through his files," Eggsy says, picking up on a conversation they had originally started on the plane back to England. "I noticed he uses a lot of the same contacts as that French guy, the one we got a couple weeks ago? I'm thinking we oughta focus on that next, see who they got in common. Maybe that can lead us to someone higher up the chain."

"I agree," Harry says.

He knows a lot of people think them insufferable together. Their driver Stephen is often plied for gossip he steadfastly refuses to divulge. Robert has walked out on them before, as has Alistair, although in his case Harry thinks it's more the bittersweet reminder of what he once had that drives him away.

Yet in spite of these unspoken complaints, he and Eggsy actually _do_ remain professional. There are no stolen kisses in front of people or inappropriate touches. It's only those strange smiles, those little gestures, the way they look at each other, that other people see and wonder about.

And yes, he knows people don't "get" them. They look at him and Eggsy and wonder what that brilliant young man is doing with that old bloke. Or they wonder why an obvious gentleman such as himself would waste his time on someone with Eggsy's humble background.

But that's all they see.

They don't see lazy breakfasts with toast and jam. They don't see the Sunday roast, the smiles over crystal wineglasses with elegant stems at dinner at The Ledbury. The jumble of laundry and the exasperating attempts at figuring out just whose black sock that is. Kisses in the bathroom that taste of toothpaste. The easy warmth of open arms in the middle of the night when the dreams of the past weigh too heavy for words.

Their private life is just that: private. Their life as Kingsman agents, however, is available and on record for others to see. But even then there are things no one else knows. And Harry guards those secrets with all that he is.

He loves getting to go out there in the field with Eggsy, putting his life in Eggsy's hands, seeing Eggsy return that trust without a moment's hesitation. It's something he had only briefly dared to imagine during the Lancelot trials, when he knew beyond any doubt that Eggsy would win the job and they would be Kingsman agents together. Later, trapped behind padded walls, he had nearly given up on thoughts of the future. All he could do then was hope that Eggsy was getting to live the life Harry had dreamed for him, while accepting that he would in all likelihood never know for sure.

Eggsy's phone chimes, startling them both. He stops twirling the Rainmaker and digs in his pocket for a bit before coming up with it. He swipes at the screen, then peers down at it. "Oh hey," he says, "that's the shop saying that bookcase has shipped."

"They're early," Harry says with approval. When they had placed the order, the scheduled ship date hadn't been until tomorrow.

"I'll make sure I'm there when they deliver it," Eggsy says as he puts his phone away.

Harry nods. "And did you make JB's vet appointment?"

Eggsy makes a face. "Shit. I forgot. I'll do that today." 

They turn the corner and keep walking. "Did you take the chicken out of the freezer?" Eggsy asks.

Harry thinks back, and realises with a sigh that he did not. Dinner is either going to be very late today while the chicken defrosts, or they will have to get takeaway.

Eggsy shrugs this off with a smile. "Oh well."

They should be at the shop in fifteen minutes. It's a bright morning, though a bit cool, with rain forecast for later today. Harry walks on and breathes in the smell of the city, and more faintly, Eggsy's aftershave.

Thirty years ago he would never have imagined this, this life full of brutal melees in lifts one day, buttery fingerprints on his shirt the next. But then, he could never have imagined Eggsy Unwin.

He could never have imagined being this happy.


End file.
